


Clint, Natasha, Budapest

by migraine_Sky



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Humor, M/M, Vicky Cristina Barcelona AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/migraine_Sky/pseuds/migraine_Sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton and Tiago Rodriguez decided to spend the summer in Budapest...</p><p>Crossover of Skyfall and Marvel Universes in the style of the movie "Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Клинт, Наташа, Будапешт](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313782) by [migraine_Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/migraine_Sky/pseuds/migraine_Sky). 



> You don't really need to see the movie to understand the fic but it would be more fun if you do, cause this is a parody of sorts.

Clint Barton and Tiago Rodriguez decided to spend the summer in Budapest.

More precisely, it wasn’t that two agents of secret intelligence service in different parts of the earth suddenly decided to go on holiday to one and the same place at the same time — of course not. A new mission led them there. Clint and Tiago were not familiar with each other, and therefore could never guess that they shared the same tastes and opinions on many matters. For example, what is the best way to neutralize the enemy in close combat conditions, how to choose the most convenient firing position and what is the roasting time for a perfect steak. But however similar their tastes might have been, it was a common goal that united them.

That summer Natasha Romanoff showed up in Budapest after a long disappearance from the view of various special services. For the ignorant everyman she was an actress looking for inspiration in this romantic corner of old Europe. But in fact — all the special services had no doubt that a new assignment led Natasha to Budapest. Romanoff was one of the most deadly and ingenious Russian agents. Her appearance anywhere was always a bad sign.

What to do with their mark — that’s where the two agent’s mission differed. Tiago was briefed to find out as much as possible about the purpose of Natasha’s visit, but most importantly — to neutralize the threat. Clint first of all had to try to enlist Natasha for S.H.I.E.L.D. (and only in case of complete hopelessness in succeeding he had to neutralize the threat as well).

Meanwhile Natasha gave the impression that she couldn’t stop enjoying the cultural treasures of the city. She visited museums and art galleries, took photos of the Great Market Halland and the Dohány Street Synagogue.

Clint watched her for three weeks. He spied from the rooftops of nearly every house on Váci Street, where Natasha’s hotel was located, sat in every cafe Natasha visited. Finally, he spent a whole day with her at the spa. But all was in vain. Natasha made no contacts and didn’t seem to have anyone to spy on.

Tiago was just as effective in stalking Romanoff as Clint was, never failing to follow her every step. Rodriguez and Barton miraculously missed each other on the rooftops of Váci Street, and in the spa as well, and thus were unaware of each other’s existence until one balmy summer night.

 

On warm nights Natasha would go to hear gypsy orchestras play verbunkos, which never failed to move her in some magical way. Clint and Tiago followed Natasha to a little restaurant where she used to enjoy live music. Watching Romanoff from a distance was no longer possible for both agents, their bosses too nervous with this mission to wait any longer.

Tiago was watching Romanoff sipping red wine, sitting just two tables away. He waited for the right moment to walk up to her and strike up a conversation. Suddenly a man with ruffled dark blond hair appeared at Natasha’s table. Tiago incidentally broke the wine glass in his hand squeezing it too hard at this nuisance, and Clint successfully started a casual conversation with Natasha.

Barton and Natasha discussed Hungarian food and music, the agent complimented Natasha’s elegance and style. Clint began to think that the mission is going smoothly when he noticed that Romanoff now and then looks at some man, who seemed to be watching them as well. Carefully, trying not to spoil the friendly tone of their conversation, he asked:

“What are you doing?”

“Mmm?” Natasha looked at him questioningly with her big innocent eyes.

“What are you… who are you looking at?”

“Me?”

“The man over there — you keep provoking contact. You’ve been throwing little looks at him all night. Are you bored with me?”

“I’m just drinking my wine,” Natasha shrugged innocently and took a sip.

“Well, great, he’s coming over.” Clint sighed, unable to hide his annoyance at some idle visitor of the restaurant, who could complicate his top-secret mission.

“Tourists?” Tiago started the conversation once he reached their table.

“I'm Natasha and this is my new friend Clint,” the spy smiled sweetly.

“What color are your eyes?” Rodriguez lowered his eyelids seductively, sending Natasha his best hot-Spanish-lover look.

“Uh... they’re blue,” answered Romanoff, batting her eyelashes and efficiently playing stupid.

“I would like to invite you to come with me to Szentendre for the weekend. We leave in one hour,” Tiago offered right away.

“What? Where is this Szentendre?” Clint asked with as much skepticism as he could muster. This man promised to be a bigger pain in the ass than Barton initially hoped for.

“A very short flight. I have the good fortune to borrow my friend’s helicopter. It’s big enough for the three of us and I’m a very good pilot,” didn’t fail to boast Rodriguez. Well, not on every mission he had a helicopter at his use.

“So what is there in Szentendre?” Natasha asked dreamily.

“I go to see a building that is very inspiring to me. A very beautiful building,” Rodriguez was making up things just as he went along. “You’ll love it.”

“Oh, right, so you’re asking us to fly to Szentendre and back?” Clint hoped it sounded just as absurd to Natasha as it did to him.

“Mmm... no, we’ll spend the weekend. I’ll show you around the city...” Tiago too wasn’t happy with his stubborn opponent and was desperately thinking of a way to make him back off. “We’ll eat well, we’ll drink good wine, we’ll make love…”

“Oh yeah? And who exactly is going to, eh, make love?” Clint sneered sarcastically.

And that was the thing Tiago could use to his advantage. He grinned:

“Hopefully, the three of us.” At this point one of his new friends just had to give up. And judging by Natasha’s playful glance, Rodriguez had every reason to expect that it would be Clint.

“Jesus, this guy doesn’t beat around the bush,” exclaimed Clint. “Look, senor, maybe in a different life.”

“Why not?” Tiago, who was already sure about his little victory, allowed himself to scoff. “Life is short, life is dull, life is full of pain. And this is a chance for something special.”

But Clint was not going to give up that easily.

“Yeah, right… and who exactly are you?” he asked with authority in his tone.

“I am Raoul Antonio Silva, the famous Spanish painter.”

“Then listen to me carefully, Raoul Antonio. We do not fly off to make love with whoever invites us to charming little Hungarian towns.”

Clint glanced at Natasha warily, looking for the signs of approval on her face. Alas, Romanoff's whole appearance showed that the invitation to a threesome with some stranger was all she had been dreaming about. ‘May be she has already figured out who I am and just doesn’t want to be left alone with me?’ Barton thought and frowned. ‘Or does this obnoxious man seems suspicious to her and she doesn’t want to lose him out of her sight?’

“I guess I have to say that, um... my eyes are green, actually,” said Natasha, portraying a bimbo so convincingly that both agents would surely believed it if they didn’t know better. She chose a wise strategy, sitting mostly silent and making the two men confront each other instead of her.

“You made a mistake, Raoul Antonio,” Barton tried again. “If you would care to join us for some recognized form of social interaction, like a drink, then we’d be fine, but otherwise, I think you should try, you know, offering to some other table.”

“What offended you about the offer?” Tiago pressed on. “Surely not that I find you both… desirable?”

“Offended me? No, it’s very amusing, but, uh, I think it’s getting a little late… Natasha, shall I walk you to your hotel?” Barton tried to end the conversation quickly.

“I would love to go to Szentendre,” Natasha suddenly rendered her verdict, staring into Tiago’s eyes with utter fascination.

“What? Are you kidding?” Barton asked hopelessly.

“I think it would be so much fun. I think we should go.”

“Maybe we'll discuss this later? You and I — we've just met... and... ” Clint tried to look miserable, but Natasha sure wasn’t that easy to manipulate.

“But I can not guarantee the lovemaking,” Natasha turned to Tiago, seemingly having genuine fun already. ”I happen to be very moody.”

‘I might rather strangle you with my legs,’ Romanoff perhaps thought to herself, but her façade showed nothing but a sweet flirtatious smile.

“Let’s not negotiate it like a contract, no commitment, you know...” Tiago hastily reassured her.

“Well, that's comforting!” Clint snorted sarcastically. He wanted to protest again, but was interrupted by a phone call. The ‘Mission Impossible’ theme indicated that the call was from Director Fury.

“Hey, how are you?” Barton said into his phone quickly and then murmured to Natasha: “My grandfather... he’s very sick, poor old man, trying to communicate with me as much as possible... Nick, I'm a little busy right now, trying to help my new acquaintance here not to make a possibly fatal mistake… I'll call you back. Love you too. So, what were we talking about? Oh yes, we 're not going anywhere. This is ridiculous! We’re not going to grab our things and fly God knows where with God knows who! Our answer is no.”

 

An hour later, admiring the view from the helicopter window, Clint wondered why it was so easy for women to wind men round their little fingers. And Tiago thought of a way to throw Barton out of the helicopter without Natasha noticing.


	2. Chapter 2

Late at night they had reached their destination and proceeded to a hotel that “Raoul Antonio” had selected for them. Natasha made sure that her room was separate from both annoying men. If they were disappointed, they hid it well.

The following morning right after breakfast “Raoul Antonio” took them to see the building that was so meaningful to him. Tiago didn’t find anything better than one of the four Orthodox churches of the town shown in the tourist guide.

While Natasha pretended to be admiring the peeling Baroque façade, she asked:

“Are you very religious?”

“No-no, I’m not,” Tiago waved his hand dismissingly but then remembered that he was supposed to keep up with an image of an artist and added vaguely:

“Religious art reminds me that the trick is to enjoy life, accepting that it has no meaning whatsoever.”

“No meaning? You don’t think true love gives life a meaning?”

“Yes, but love is...so transient,” Rodriguez decided to add a little drama. “I was in love with the most incredible human being... and in the end... he put a knife into me.”

“My God, that’s terrible!” exclaimed Natasha and Tiago couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, maybe you did something to deserve it?” contributed to the conversation Clint.

Gloomy and sullen, he didn’t have enough sleep last night, too busy listening to sounds in Natasha’s room and guarding her door all night (in vain).

 

The next day Tiago invited Natasha for a lunch. Clint joined them. Tiago continued to think of all the ways in which his opponent could disappear, but didn’t fulfill his dreams into reality just yet. It wasn’t his conscience that prevented it, of course. He waited for a response from the Headquarters to where the request for Barton’s identification had been already sent.

And for now they discussed art and romance. “Raoul Antonio” was full of stories about his ex-partner, whom he both criticized and idolized. In the afternoon, he took them to see the local sights, told stories about the city; and while Clint now and then wished to able to kill Tiago with his look, Natasha seemed to have a wonderful time.

The question of sleeping together did not come up until that night...

“Well, now that the day is almost over, is it reasonable of me to ask you if you would both join me in my room?” Tiago asked when all three were relaxing on couches in the lobby and quite mockingly looked at Clint.

“Oh, come on. I thought we’d settled that,” exclaimed Barton. “You wanna know what I think? I think that you’re still hurting from the failure of your relationship with James, and you’re trying to lose yourself in empty sex.”

“Empty sex? Do you have such a low opinion of yourself?” Rodriguez sneered .

“Look, I just came along to keep Natasha company, I’m not even into men at all! And if I was, in any case, Raoul Antonio, 'you and I' would have never worked.”

Tiago grinned, his face saying that he wasn’t surprised that Clint had finally chickened out. He turned to Natasha:

“And you?”

“I'll go to your room... but you have to seduce me,” the spy smiled sweetly.

Rodriguez reminded himself – just in case – that the concept of “seduction” for Natasha may as well include something like a back flip with strangling the opponents with thighs, arm twisting, or the use of cold weapons and firearms (for it’s actual purpose or not) – but he had no choice but to stick to the plan.

Just when Natasha and Tiago left, Fury called. He told Barton that his new friend _the artist_ is none other than Tiago Rodriguez, an agent of British intelligence, and that to leave him alone with Romanoff was strictly prohibited.

“Sir, you don’t think that Great Britain and Russia can cooperate behind our backs, do you?”

“I think not. The British agent’s mission is most likely the same as yours, Barton.”

“And you think this Rodriguez guy will be able to...”

“No. If I know Natasha at all, she will eliminate this agent and cause an international scandal – in a few words, all the fuss we don’t want to have. You must immediately intervene.”

Barton sighed, hung up and reluctantly got up from the couch .

 

Clint knocked on Tiago’s door and listened warily. He hoped not to hear the sounds of fighting (or worse). The door opened quickly revealing Rodriguez with a glass of wine in his hand. Even his shirt was still on him, though unbuttoned. He obviously didn’t expect to see Clint but still smiled (not too sincerely).

“Changed your mind, huh? Who would have thought, come in... Me and Natasha – we were discussing what she wants in life besides a man in the right shorts, as she has told me.” He looked at Romanoff, who was sitting on the bed in a relaxed way with a glass in her hand.

“Uh, well, I don’t know…” Natasha shrugged carelessly and slowly stood up. “I just know I’m not gonna settle till I find what I’m looking for.”

This time, Natasha’s flirting tone failed her and attentive green eyes stared at the agents in a downright threatening way. Rodriguez involuntarily took a step towards the chair, on which his jacket (with the gun) was, and Barton moved his shoulders to feel the weight of his own weapon hidden on his forearms under his clothes. Natasha recollected herself in an instant and put on a silly smile. She made a very unstable step forward, as if already affected by the wine and both agents rushed to support her. In a second they were holding Natasha on both sides, standing together as the Three Graces. Natasha smiled slyly at Tiago then looked at Clint. Tiago wrapped his free arm around Burton, pulling him closer and Clint thought that the Three Graces won’t do them justice. Yes, they looked more like snakes: dangerous, poisonous snakes, ready to attack at any moment. And cuddling with Tiago was like cuddling with a crocodile – here he pulls out his clawed paws and bares sharp teeth into a wide smile and...

The poetic impulse for comparisons (awakened in Barton by the beautiful scenery of old Europe) was unceremoniously interrupted by the crocodile’s lips unexpectedly pressed to his own. The lips felt rather nice and soft. In surprise Barton opened his mouth a little, and Tiago’s tongue promptly slid inside. Agent’s hand rushed to support Clint’s head, his tongue slowly slid deeper, leaving sweet taste of good wine in his mouth. And when with an indecent smack Rodriguez pulled away from Barton, he had to admit that it wasn’t actually that bad. Rodriguez however didn’t stop there and in a second was kissing Romanoff in the same passionate way.

Suddenly Natasha’s appreciative moan changed into a slightly painful one.

“Are you… are you okay?” Tiago asked immediately, a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” said Natasha weakly and clutched at her stomach . “It’s something I ate...”

“What’s wrong? Can I get you anything?” Clint looked worried too.

“No, no... I guess I shouldn’t be drinking. I think I feel sick, I better go,” Natasha promptly stepped towards the door. “Sorry, I hope you two have fun too…”

Then the spy quickly disappeared behind the door with genuine regret on her face.

Barton looked at Tiago, who was looking back at him with his hands resting on his hips and a slight confusion on his face. The air seemed to grow tense. Rodriguez began to think that may be he should use the opportunity to get the opponent out of his way, screw the orders. And Barton thought that disappearance of one British agent is not in fact a big deal. No one knows how this would have ended, if suddenly Tiago’s phone didn’t ring. Clint blinked, shifted from foot to foot, Tiago took out his phone and looked at the screen.

“It’s James…” he said in slight surprise.

Barton used this opportunity to excuse himself and with some relief closed the door behind him, hearing Tiago purr into the phone:

“Hello, amor mío.”

“You're not alone?” asked Bond’s voice warily.

“I am now, what do you want?” Rodriguez asked with much less adoration in his voice.

“I'm calling to tell you about your new friend there.”

“Oh, so there’s nothing better for the great 007 to do than a secretarial job now?” Tiago asked sarcastically.

“No it’s just that everyone else has more important things to do than to talk to you,” Bond didn’t lack sarcasm either. “Besides, they send me to help you, tomorrow I will be on the spot.”

“What do you mean _to help me_?! What the hell! I have enough problems without you!”

“They don’t trust you, Raoul Antonio,” mockingly said Bond, and Tiago regretted that he couldn’t hit him right now. “You’ll start disregarding orders, as usual, and ruin this extremely important mission.”

“Extremely important? Only five minutes ago it was just an ordinary mission…”

“Exactly. But now we know that your new friend there is Clint Barton, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Who? Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Sounds like “knight of Christ”.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division – an American secret organization. Even I wasn’t told what exactly it is that they do, but judging by how concerned M is, the situation is serious. S.H.I.E.L.D. is pursuing Romanoff just like we do. M is now negotiating, and until it becomes clear whether we should simply ignore the Americans, or give in and withdraw you, or maybe even assist them – until then we have to wait and not to lose Romanoff out of sight.”

“Just great!” groaned Tiago. “We can’t wait any longer! Have M forgotten who we are dealing with? We are very fortunate that Romanoff let us wait for as long as it is! She can disappear any hour now.”

“That's why they send me. You always had problems with waiting.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning _four_ agents were sitting at one table and having breakfast. Natasha looked fresh and well-rested, though she was assuring her friends that the food poisoning kept her awake all night. If she was disappointed that Clint and Tiago didn’t use the perfect chance to strangle each other yesterday, she didn’t show it. All her attention was now drawn to the newcomer – James Bond, who sat smoking nervously and grim as a crow.

“James tried to commit suicide,” that was the way Rodriguez explained the sudden appearance of his ‘ex’ that morning, and now Bond had to play along. “Jumped off a bridge, can you imagine?”

“Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?” asked Romanoff politely to break the oppressive silence.

“Vodka,” muttered Bond, drilling her with his gaze.

“Vodka?” with dramatic exasperation repeated Tiago and rubbed his face with his hand. “Sure, James, come on, start getting drunk already in the early morning!”

“What else is there to do, Raoul Antonio?” aggressively replied the agent and the cigarette trembled slightly between his fingers.

“Look at you, look, what your alcoholism and your pills are doing to you!”

“Oh, and don’t forget my – how do you call it? - my destructive devotion to, uh, _art_!”

“Do you paint, also?” Barton tried to switch the conversation to a more peaceful topic.

“Sure,” grimly confirmed Bond, eyeing Clint threateningly and squashing the cigarette butt in the ashtray. “And he, he stole everything from me. His whole style.”

Tiago squinted and sighed. Was Bond still angry that they sent Rodriguez for this mission and not him?

“Stole your style, oh my God, James! I… I came close to killing for you!”

“Yeah, you came close to killing _me_. And also tied me to a chair.”

“I was defending myself! You had a Walther and you were drunk… with a Walter and raging!”

Natasha made frightened eyes, Clint frowned and Bond just lit another cigarette.

“Can we have a minute?” asked Rodriguez, pretending that he wanted to discuss their ‘family’ business aside and stood up from the table.

“You can be jealous of our _Mother_ as much as necessary, Bond,” he muttered, as they stepped away from the table, “but I will not let you compromise this mission…”

“ _Your ex_?” fiercely hissed Bond in response. “Seriously, Tiago? Was that the best you could come up with?”

“It fit my story!” Tiago threw up his hands. “You better thank me that you don’t have to, let’s say, to disguise into a woman and go by the name ‘Anna Maria’ or something… Although that would be too hard for you, you’re not _that_ good of an actor.”

“Oh really?” Bond asked defiantly.

“Of course, your acting skills are quite mediocre.”

In the next second Tiago received a dramatic slap, and Bond raised his voice:

“Just look at him!” he pointed towards the blue-eyed agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. “You're still searching for me in every man! You'll always seek to duplicate what we had!”

“Why were you thinking about killing yourself?” immediately joined this little play Tiago. “I mean, how this stupid idea even crossed your mind?!”

“Why are you, why are you getting so angry at me?!”

“You tried to kill yourself, for Christ's sake! You're… damaged!”

“And you love that! You always loved that there is someone more damaged than you are!” James exclaimed and broke off, pretending to instantly regret the “accidental truth’ he just said.

His blue eyes were full of pain, and his face revealed resentment and passion at the same time; and even Tiago himself was close to believing him at that second. But Bond suddenly smiled with one corner of his mouth and looked at Rodriguez with a triumph.

“Okay, just calm down,” said Tiago almost apologetically and stretching out his hand, and James answered with an embrace, hiding his face on Tiago’s shoulder. “You’ll stay here until you get back on your feet. You'll feel better, and everything will be all right…”

Rodriguez carefully looked at the agents they left at the table: judging by their impressed faces, both of them were quite ready to believe the story.

Using their proximity Bond mumbled:

“So what 's your plan?”

“Mmm, Mr James Bond wants to know about my plans,” Tiago said mockingly, stroking the hair of the second agent in pretend affection. “And that passionate tone of yours, murmuring into my neck and all…”

“I might switch even to more intimate places but not in a loving manner,” growled James quietly, clutching at Tiago’s waist.

“I don’t really have a plan yet,” Rodriguez hissed angrily, “but I do know that we don’t have time to wait for the authorities to sort it all out.”

“I have to agree with that.”

“Thank God, you have at least a drop of sanity left, James.”

He patted Bond on the back, and they finally returned to the table.

 

The rest of their breakfast they spent without drama. Bond portrayed mild depression, Rodriguez portrayed light emotional distress. And at the end of their meal Tiago said:

“So, I took you here, to Szentendre, not only to admire the town, but also to show you my studio. If you wish, I would like to invite you to look at my paintings. Oh, and paintings of James, too.”

“With pleasure,” Natasha smiled excitedly. “I am very interested to see how good you are… as artists.”

“James is an amazing artist…” said Tiago sweetly, grabbing Bond’s waist imposingly, when they rose from the table; and Bond thought that Tiago started to overact just a little. “There is so much passion, so much strength in his paintings… All right, let’s meet here, in the lobby, in half an hour.”

Tiago’s hand didn’t leave the agent’s waist even when they were already in their room. Slamming the door behind them, Rodriguez playfully pressed James to the wall.

“Finally we are alone, my dear James…”

“Uh, _yeah_ , so you can let go of me.”

“Is that what you really want?” Tiago purred affectionately in a weird, way too relaxed manner.

“You can be sure of that,” replied Bond, dispassionately clasping Tiago’s head in his hands to look closely into his eyes. “Were you drinking coffee? Oh my, at one table with Romanoff?”

“Kiss me, _Jamesito_ ,” Rodriguez ignored his question and pooched his lips, trying to reach Bond’s; but the agent’s hands fixed him at a safe distance.

“I can’t believe you let her drug you!”

Tiago mumbled something completely unintelligible and began to gradually subside. Bond had to urgently release the agent 's head to prevent his inevitable collision with the floor. Tiago’s lips with a soft smack bumped into Bond’s cheek, but it wasn’t much of a kiss, because a second later Rodriguez was already sound asleep, and Bond was pulling him toward the bed, cursing.

When Rodriguez was placed on the mattress and Bond had to extricate himself from his grasp, the room door swung open. Barton hurriedly stepped into the room but stopped halfway, his face acquiring the expression of “I better come back later.”

“Is it Romanoff?” Bond reacted instantly, adding: “I’m an agent, too.”

Barton nodded.

“She's gone. She knocked me out and ran. In such a critical situation, I think we should join our forces, Mr…”

“Bond. James Bond,” James said proudly with Rodriguez snoring quietly in the background.

“Barton. Clint Barton,” just in case reminded Clint, and they ran together out of the room.  
  
♥ ♥ ♥

Rodriguez opened his eyes and winced from severe headache. He lay on the bed in his room. Bond sat in a chair nearby, bandaging his hand with repose of a cat washing itself after a fight.

“Damn it, James… What happened?” Tiago abruptly tried to sit up but the headache got stronger, and he flopped back onto the pillow.

“We failed the mission,” Bond grinned.

“Wait, what? ‘We’? There is no ‘we’! But how?” Tiago managed to sat up, his hand shielding his face from the light.

Bond looked clearly way too content for the stated status of the mission.

“At least that’s what we have to tell the boss.”

“Again, I really don’t like that ‘we’. Where is Romanoff?”

“Should be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean now,” answered Bond, checking his watch.

“What?”

“It wasn’t another mission that led Romanoff to Budapest… Simply a vacation.”

“Vacation! Ha, sure… Oh my God, you are serious, are you?”

“I suspected that all along. She is done with Russian special services. And, in my opinion, actually deserves a second chance, which S.H.I.E.L.D. would provide for her.”

“You know, when I said that we shouldn’t wait for the MI6 instructions, I didn’t mean to give it all up and surrender our mark to Americans!”

“Now if you listen to me and stop interrupting, I'll tell you everything in detail and you will agree with me.”

“The hell I will!”

“You don’t want to write the report, do you?”

“Pff, only a madman would want to write the report for James Bond’s missions! Is the city at least partially intact?” Rodriguez (still with the same annoyed face) stepped to the window, as if to check out the destruction himself.

“Partially,” James grinned, and Tiago too couldn’t hold back a smile.


End file.
